


Snapshot

by afriendtosell



Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, canon knowledge not necessary, happens sometime after Civil War if it really matters, this is pretty general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afriendtosell/pseuds/afriendtosell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick look into a moment of Peter Parker's day-to-day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapshot

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N** : A short fic I had never posted, mostly because it was writing practice. I still like it after all this time. And for those of you who are reading my other fic and wondering if I'm dead or have given up on the fic--no, I'm not. Life just got in the way for a bit. I'll try and update soon!

There had been a time, he remembered, where swinging through the City as fast as he was doing had frightened him. Though he was a man of science, and could calculate his trajectories nearly on the fly, no brains required, it always took him just a moment to raise up the nerve. He'd seen what could happen to someone when they splattered -- because that's all a body could do at that velocity -- into the side of a skyscraper at sixty miles an hour; it wasn't pretty. 

He moved with as much care as he could, always keeping focused on putting one hand in front of the other, on grabbing his latest string of web just this close from the thing escaping his grip. He'd explained to Logan that it was the only way he'd be able to increase his speed, due to the sudden tug always making the lax webline act part-bungee cable and part-zip line.

Logan had told him he was hellbent on killing himself. He didn't exactly disagree.

Patrolling came before self-reflection, however. The city sped by in a menagerie of lights and sounds, each building flashing past his peripherals like shining quicksilver; he let go of webline he'd been holding on to in an effort to correct himself for a turn, and nearly rocketed past the people below him. As always -- and it never used to be like this, not since before the Civil War -- someone called him a menace before he was out of earshot, which made him laugh. The city never changed, not even to after Osborn had been shown for the lunatic that he was -- no, New Yorkers were predictable like that. It was their way of showing they still cared. 

The day they stopped calling him a menace would be the day he died; it was strangely comforting to know that that, at least, he could count on. 

Too many things in his life had been ripped asunder lately.

A call out from an alleyway keeps him from thinking too hard on the subject -- and helps him to shove Alexi's face down, deep down into that dark place he's never been too comfortable with having -- and he's flying. 

The first crook doesn't know what hit him, but he does hear: "You know, you guys should really diversify--" The first one goes down on entry, while the second of the three tries to swing at him. "--I mean--" dodge, counter, webbed to the wall. "--Have you started looking into mad super-science to help support these petty crimes?" and the third tries to run away, but another webline to the back, a swift turn on his heel, and a yank back send him into the opposite wall.

"Seems that everyone else has. It's made my daily commute a nightmare!"

The woman is grateful -- and so is he that she's alive, that never changed -- and he stays in the alleyway until the police arrive. After that, the rest of the night is much of the same. He saves another man from another mugging -- they never seemed to end, in this town -- and then the rest of the night blurs, jumping from person to person, fight to fight until he's helping a few of New York's finest chase down a crook that had diversified and traded in his gun for some kind of sonic canon. This time, he can't drop down a quick quip without having it nearly blown out of his mouth.

"Listen dude, I don't know if anyone's ever told you this," he dodges by jumping from the street onto the nearest flat surface. "But this thing you're doing right now?" and back to the street, away from any bystanders. "With the recklessly blasting at me, and trying to run when you're already out of breath," he doesn't move this time, just dodges the blast in a way that Neo would be envious of. 

"--Which I'm sorry about, truly. I voted YES on the proposition that would give you guys more time for exercise." he leaps up, snagging a lamppost. "It's seriously not cool. Like, Miley Cyrus and Rebbecca Black teaming up to do a duet-not-cool." The webbing he fires catches the crook at the feet, distracting him long enough to let Peter web him from the waist up. "You know one of them has the talent and the experience, and that the other one's just making a fool out of themselves."

Cue applause. He jumps down to where the crook is and starts talking shop with the officer in charge on the scene -- thankfully, most of the Men in Blue remembered what side he was playing for.

(Well, most of the time. Vin Gonzales notwithstanding.)

"--So, you do this every night?" the officer asks, letting Peter know just how out of town she was.

"Twenty-four-seven, three-hundred and sixty five." he answers, then, after a beat: "With a few days tacked on for leap years. It's murder on my social life."

The cop laughs. "I can imagine!" she shakes her head. "Good to have you, though. You sure make my job easier."

"Hey, everyone gets one."

The cop nods, smiling at the joke nearly everyone but Peter himself got to use. "Can't imagine it's easy, either," she says, taking a quick glance back at the crook while they loaded him up into the back of the patrol car. "Doing this, nonstop, all day every day? I couldn't hack it -- hell, I don't think half the force could."

Peter shrugged. He never really chose to become Spider-man, it had just happened. And he's honest about it: "Believe me, I need you guys way more than you need me." he takes one last look at the crook, then glances around to see what building would be the easiest to use as a springboard. "It's exhausting being this awesome all the time."

"Yanno, I've always wondered that," the cop admits, then holds up both of her hands when Peter's mask makes it seem like he's perking up an eyebrow. "No, not the awesome part, ha! More like...Why keep doing it, after all these years? You can't be getting any younger."

It's a question he'd asked himself time and time again, but never had a clear answer for. He knows that he needs Spider-man, on a certain subconscious level, but his desire to do good while in the guise is much more selfish than that. Peter liked being Spider-man on his good days; he had liked it so much, in fact, that it had gotten his uncle Ben killed. And ruined his marriage. And killed Gwen. And been responsible for so much pain and heartache in his life that, even now, with this man he barely even knew asking him, he still wondered why he wore the costume, why he didn't just give it all up and live a normal life.

"Do you have any kids, uh--" he has to hold back a laugh when he reads the woman's nametag. "--Captain Stacey?" little coincidence of coincidences.

The woman smiles, then holds up two fingers. "Jacob and Whitney, they're both twins."

Peter makes a d'aww noise, then chuckles under his breath. "That's why."

She gives him a slightly confused look.

"Because, as smarmy as it sounds, kids need someone to look up to. Someone like a role model," he says, knowing it sounds like an after-school special speech. "Doesn't matter if it's Captain America one or two, or the Avengers, the Hulk, or your friendly neighborhood Spider-dork; people need heroes, and heroes, maybe a bit selfishly, need to feel like they're making a difference."

He shoots out a webline, then tests it for adhesion. "I want to be that difference," he continues, remembering Alexi and Gwen and everyone else he's failed before and almost choking on his words because of it. "I'm not in it for the fame or the recognition -- and lords knows I have enough infamy these days -- and I'm not in it to try and prove something. I just want to help people and make sure that what happened to me to make me Spider-man never happens to anyone else, ever again."

She's a bit speechless, but it's only natu -- "That's kind of corny, Spider-man."

He laughs. "Yeah, I know." and then, he's zipping away. "But, with great power."

And then, he's gone.


End file.
